


The Secret Truth Behind a Misunderstanding ft. A Not So Eloquent Confession

by unrestricted_obsessions



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bilbo is So Done, But so is Bilbo, Cuddles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bilbo, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Sharing a Bed, Story-Telling, Thorin Is an Idiot, because she's awesome, i guess, more Dis, possibly even more so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestricted_obsessions/pseuds/unrestricted_obsessions
Summary: Bilbo is caught in a bit of a tricky situation when his admittance of love for Thorin is misinterpreted as confirmation of their courtship. Luckily for him, Thorin is willing to play along, without knowing the full truth of course. Needless to say, the situation becomes a lot more complicated than he was hoping for.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	The Secret Truth Behind a Misunderstanding ft. A Not So Eloquent Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure about this, but when am I ever so here we go! As always, any feedback and/or constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged, if you would like to offer it. Otherwise, lay back and I hope you enjoy!

Remaining in Erebor. It wasn't really a choice for Bilbo, more of an instinct, like he was merely gravitating around his friends ever since the battle, needing to watch over them. To go back to the Shire would be to practically never see them again, especially Thorin, with the difficult, long travel and their respective responsibilities. That didn't mean he had entirely abandoned it however, keeping contact with his more amiable relatives and sorting through the legal issues surrounding Bag End. It was a terrible bother trying to prove his existence. Many tedious months were spent attempting to convince the more difficult hobbits of his identity until he had given in and visited them himself. Not being able to accompany him personally, Thorin had insisted that Dwalin and Gloin go with him (an intimidating sight for his poor neighbours, the fact that he was dressed in a very dwarven travelling cloak not helping matters).  
  
Perhaps he should have been more uncomfortable in the cavernous, ruined halls of stone. Though they were halls that grew into glory and light the more he lingered, with hefty, rowdy dwarves eventually filling the space. Maybe it should have taken more time to adapt, but he found himself easily drifting into the loud, cheerful, heavy culture of the dwarrow. It was as though he was always meant to become some strange mixture of hobbit and dwarf, for hobbit he still was in many aspects. He soon figured that the two races were very much alike, in nearly all matters except fierceness and surroundings, though even these weren't lacking in similarities. They both took their passions in the earth, dwarves enraptured with stone and gems, and hobbits with nature.  
  
Though something he had taken great amusement in was the stupidity of a certain King. How in Yavanna's name he had planned to rule a kingdom was unknown to Bilbo, as it now seemed he would have gotten absolutely nowhere without the burglar's competent input. He didn't truly have an official profession within the Mountain, simply wandering and helping with the smaller essential tasks, like ensuring their trade, growth of food and other resources, or restoring the Grand Library and all its books to the best possible conditions, but he had also become a sort of unofficial advisor to the King. They consulted each other with their problems, even if they were the struggles of a leader, and the hobbit was perfectly happy to assist with anything. More and more Thorin seemed to come to him with a variety of issues, ranging drastically in severity - regarding Erebor of course - hence why Bilbo began to wonder at how he had been hoping to rule a kingdom after its restoration, or indeed how he even commanded in the Blue Mountains. He did believe the King to be a very motivational, dedicated, capable leader, but in the more technical aspects of a monarchy (such as the problem-solving, equal attention on such a large amount of people, the management of the rebuilding itself and _oh_ the _heaps_ of _paperwork_ ) he was utterly useless. Many times Thorin had been found asleep at his desk in the mornings, having worked through multiple days and nights without rest.  
  
He finally figured it out when Lady Dís appeared, the mother of Fíli and Kíli, and certainly a formidable, intelligent dwarf. Once she had settled, she was of much use in those very technical aspects (of which Bilbo had been her substitute) while the King remained as a public figure, defusing tensions and inspiring the people into an equal determination as his. In that way, they were a perfect team, the epitome of familial attachment at its best.  
  
Her arrival was a grand moment, amidst the final carts and caravans from Ered Luin, and a certain burglar was stood at Thorin's side to greet her. When she had finally turned his way, there was a grin he had seen replicated far too many times during and after the Quest.  
  
"Ah, the halfling, of course!" She had almost crashed their heads together in an affectionate greeting, before thinking against it and offering her hand. It took a moment to consider the words in horror, before telling himself that she couldn't possibly have known hobbits don't take kindly to the term. Instead of his typical lecture of _'_ _being a perfectly normal size for his race, thank you very much'_ he firmly shook the procured hand and smiled.  
  
"Call me Bilbo, please." Thorin had raised an eyebrow at the calm, even if he seemed relieved at it.  
  
Their first conversation was memorable, to say the least, and though Bilbo had fiercely suppressed his offence for the sake of good impressions, Dís and the hobbit instantly struck up a friendship, and many had looked on in fear at two of the most cunning, witty, and efficient people they had ever known forming a partnership. For a time, they lived in paranoid fear of the mischief that would ensue.  
  
So, you see, Bilbo had in a way unintentionally weaselled into the line of Durin, always having been a sort of exasperated parental figure to the youngest, and now even close with their true mother. He had even received chambers in the Royal Quarters, something which had flustered him tremendously at first, though he had grown to be comfortable with his extremely soft bed. He could occasionally hear Thorin's soft humming travelling through the walls and sounding as if it was beside him, so he had grown against the insistence of having more humble rooms. And of course, he had grown prominently attached to the King Under the Mountain himself. They were dear to each other, and without the constant threat of danger looming over them, they had managed to truly understand the other in more than just behaviour and facing many perils together.  
  
He spent much of his time with Thorin, who despite already having been coronated had somehow always managed to clear his schedule for his friend. They took walks through the halls of Erebor or sat outside as Bilbo tended to the garden that had been created for him. They talked about everything, deep flaws within the kingdom and how to uproot them, building supplies for the winter, the Dwarf and Hobbit's respective political systems, or what they had for supper, which flowers or jewels were their favourites, and silly affectionate bickering over minute things. Other times they remained in silence. Bilbo had asked himself once, which did he prefer? He could never discover a truthful answer, for he loved learning of Thorin's kingdoms or discussing how they might better it, but he also loved sharing his own passions, his own culture with him, or even just sitting comfortably together doing nothing in particular. As long as Thorin was _there_ , he always enjoyed it.  
  
But now I am dawdling in telling the story you are all waiting ever so patiently to hear. This is the story, as you might suspect, of how the supposed Saviour of Erebor became Consort Under the Mountain. It is quite a funny story, in retrospect at least, and it began as you might expect, with a mischievous Lady Dwarf.  
  
—  
  
The Company had taken to a sort of gathering room they would retreat in for the evenings. They would talk, relax, go about their business; it was simply a way to not drift apart after the Quest. Dís had refused to be excluded and often joined them. On this particular night, it had been an awfully busy day for the King, and he laid his head on his hobbit's lap by the fire. His eyes were closed in contentment, and none could decide on if he was asleep or not, but all agreed not to disturb his exhaustion. Bilbo had undone Thorin's braids, spreading out the raven, streaked hair and combing through it softly with his fingers. The Company was accustomed to such intimate actions between the two (though Fíli still sometimes pulled faces of mock-disgust to his brother) but Dís was all too unfamiliar with it.  
  
"Are you and my brother courting?"  
There was the unmistakable gleam of devilish humour in her eyes as she was as blunt as usual, and Ori cast her a frantic glance to say, essentially, _'_ _shush, shush, shush, shush, shush, shUSH!'._ Bilbo noticed none of this in his embarrassment. He was verily certain that he had flushed a bright, humiliating shade of red.

"Well, I-" he hadn't quite known how he was expecting to respond, desperately attempting to form the word 'no,' but finding himself unable to. The result of being lost for words was more catastrophic than one might think. He looked down to the dwarf below him, who only seemed to fidget slightly in his sleep, before growing still, a faint smile on his features. The hobbit found himself reflecting the expression, wondering what dream could make Thorin look so soft.  
  
"Oh Mahal, you're in _love_ , aren't you?" The grin, though still present, was beginning to be mixed with a very slight bit of shock. Such little words, yet such an impact, such a weight. Bilbo found himself spluttering again, but this question could not go unanswered, nor could he lie. It was all well and good simply never _mentioning_ the truth, almost forgetting it himself (though truly how could he, with such intense feelings?) but to actively lie about it would have felt so completely wrong.  
  
"I suppose I am. Dís, I really think I am."  
  
At that, everyone in the Company had shot up from their seats, yelling different outcries. Somehow, very few of them were in honest disbelief, most reactions being more upon the lines of, _"Finally!"_  
Bilbo was horrified as they all began questioning him on the courtship he had never affirmed, but he didn't have the time to correct them. Thorin stirred at the uproar, blinking up at the hobbit above him in confusion and dazedness, who refused to meet his eye and blushed furiously. Before anyone dared recover from the silence that his awakening had brought, Bilbo gently pushed him up.  
  
"I think it's time you went to bed. I'll walk with you." There were no objections as the burglar continued to support his King into standing, who then nodded in vague agreement at the mention of sleep. However, by the time they had reached the Royal Quarters, Thorin was very much awake, having adapted to that ability of easily breaking from drowsiness. All the better; no-one would suffer against an early-rising hobbit rushing to catch a King before anyone could mention something suspicious (thus causing him to lose his chance of an explanation, however false).  
  
"May I speak with you?" He stopped suddenly, far too conscious of the silence which had submerged them. Thorin merely opened the door to his chambers wider, offering entry. Bilbo settled into the armchair by the fire. "You see, I may have gotten us into a bit of a problem."  
  
A flash of concern spread over his friend's expression, and the Baggins immediately made to wipe it away, waving his hands frantically, "It's nothing serious, I assure you," he said, yet faltered, and bit at his lip in anxiety.  
  
"What troubles you, my burglar?" In the hindsight of the conversation he was intending to bring about, the endearment of being Thorin's was blown heavily out of proportion in his mind. Under the clear light of the fire and lack of sleep in the dwarf's eyes, Bilbo had no way to hide the tint of red staining his cheeks other than to turn away. Nearly instinctively, he curled his feet onto the edge of the chair, his elbow resting on a knee and bending for his fist to press against his cheek. It didn't do much to cover the flushing, but it made Bilbo feel more secure, closing off and hiding his secrets.  
  
"I might have given the Company, including Lady Dís, a presumption that we are... courting." Before even considering to say the words aloud, the Hobbit of Erebor had thought over every possible outcome to it - every reaction from the worst to the best. Something he had not at all imagined was for Thorin to _laugh_ : not in shock, incredulity or horror; not in teasing, antagonism or cruelty. He seemed solely amused, purely and without a single thought of hostility.  
  
"How on Middle Earth have you managed to do that?" Perhaps this conversation would be a lot easier than he had thought. He began to laugh along.  
  
"It's _your_ fault, you imbecile! Your little act of falling asleep in my lap entirely convinced them!" Thorin burst into another heavy round of laughter in response, mirth shining as bright as the moon in his eyes, something that was rarer than Bilbo could care to mention. This wasn't to insinuate that the leader was wholly taciturn all the time - far from it truly - only that such unfiltered, impulsive joy was something that didn't show itself often. Bilbo revelled in the moments he could extract it.  
  
When he had recovered from the fit which had rendered him speechless, Thorin continued, and though his laugh had physically left, it radiated in his voice, his eyes still shone, and he still smiled in the blissful aftermath of euphoria.  
"Even so, I fail to see how this is worrying you. Can you not simply tell them it is a misunderstanding?"  
  
Bilbo was not impressed by the response, and it ruffled him thoroughly to attempt an explanation, especially one which excluded a certain confession of his love.  
"They would never let it go! I will be teased to no end, to the end of my life and possibly even longer." It seemed that Thorin was attempting extensively to restrain his laughter again, which mixed with a strain to appear entirely serious to make him look rather odd.  
  
"Very well, but what do you expect me to do?" He had quirked one eyebrow slightly, an expression which could convey many things when it came to Thorin Oakenshield. For example, when Bilbo's door had been opened to greet the final dwarf, he had adopted a similar look then, and his glancing over the gentlehobbit before him shown disinterest and scepticism. He had also used it to express a point of the burglar's uselessness to Gandalf, and, more recently, as a sign of amusement or silent communication with his friend. Never had it left Bilbo so breathless.  
  
"Well, you see– um, er... I was quite hoping you could go along with it, only for a little while," he added on the last phrase in a clear hurry, not wishing to cause any further confusion.  
  
Thorin's face closed off, furrowing in thought, and though this was only for a few seconds, Bilbo could hear his heart pumping profusely in his chest, feeling every pulse of blood in every corner of his body. For a brief moment, it had seemed as though the dwarf wanted to make some point, to say something, but it soon left.  
  
"I suppose I have no objection to it if you are certain you know what you're getting yourself into. I am a _King_ , you know." Thorin smiled then, in the much more reserved manner which was typical of him.  
  
"Yes, I don't believe I ever noticed," Bilbo snapped back sarcastically, his grin tilting to one side along with the words. They talked for a minute longer, but very soon they were wishing each other goodnight at the door. The hobbit walked away at a final farewell, and it was a long moment before he heard the door shutting gingerly behind him.  
  
—  
  
Bilbo is woken much earlier than his internal clock would wish to allow by a swift rapping at the door. Of course, it is Thorin, but his disoriented mind had not managed to piece this together until he saw the dwarf, undoubtedly causing a ridiculous look of surprise. He is still in his nightclothes, looking rather dishevelled from an awkward night's sleep, and self-consciously fidgets with a sleeve as he ushers his friend inside.  
  
"Ah, um, please forgive me a short moment to get ready." Thorin nods, looking quite internally uncomfortable also, and Bilbo rushes away into some clothes that had been scattered on his bed for the sake of speed. Soon he returns to the living room.  
  
"I must apologise if I disturbed you." The tension between them was unbearable, all humour from the delirious conversation yesterday having completely dissolved.  
"No, no, don't bother yourself, I was quite awake," which was an obvious lie, but Thorin seemed gracious enough not to mention it.  
  
"I thought I might braid your hair, in a traditional dwarvish courting style-" but he seemed to be doubting himself now, however confidently the idea had first appeared in his mind- "though you may decline, I only... wondered how believable you would wish us to be." The apprehension was clear in his eyes, while his hands had clenched and unclenched many times as he spoke.  
"Oh, yes, since it's a dwarven practice it would seem a bit odd if we didn't, would it not?"  
  
They settled down on the floor together, and though the silence remained uneasy at first, they soon relaxed in each other's company. Feeling Thorin's coarse hands run through his hair so naturally, weaving it together into beautiful patterns was comforting, and any initial hardship was soon forgotten. It was finished far too soon (though Bilbo could have sworn that the process had faltered and stalled many times) and so they were broken from the trance and back into reality.  
  
The hobbit hesitantly reached up to touch the braid, not wishing to loosen or ruin it in any way, despite curiosity taking over. When his delicate fingers dragged against hard metal, the shape instantly recognizable, he froze, finally turning to face Thorin, all while being moments away from tearing out the bead.  
  
"Is that..?" The question was pointless really, he knew that he was not mistaken; he needed no confirmation, and yet he inquired anyway. His eyes flickered to the dwarf's own hair, instantly feeling embarrassed that he had not noticed the new style immediately. Instead of the two simple braids at the side of his face, there was only one, and it dragged around the side to the back of his head, where, presumably, it was tied off with only one bead.  
  
"Aye, Master Baggins," was his response, and Bilbo knew the formality was a way to distance himself, but he did not say so, had never remotely even gestured to his understanding in the many times it had happened. Then Thorin's face grew serious.  
"It is included in tradition, but courtship or no you have deserved it."  
  
His place in the line of Durin.  
  
Bilbo smiled. How could he be anything but flattered in that moment? "Thank you," he whispered, and he meant it, with all his heart.  
  
They walked to the dining hall together, and in truth, it was quite an odd experience, no longer in the sense of tension between the two but rather them being so purposefully obvious about attachment. It had seemed, at least to Bilbo, that he had been trying so very hard all this time not to even remotely show any non-platonic affections, and now he could finally breathe, letting it all out without the consequences. Of course, there are always counter-affects to actions, but it hadn't felt so in the moment.  
  
When they walked in, Kíli snorted and hid his face behind his hands as he trembled with giggles. Though there was an obvious manoeuvre from Gloin to kick him under the table, no other reactions were blatant, perhaps only a few lingering glances to the braids in the burglar's hair. Bifur leaned over to Bombur, declaring something exuberantly in Iglishmêk, all the while roaring with laughter, but other than that, as well as the occasional cough, all was silent.  
  
Once the food had all but disappeared and the plates cleared away, Bilbo was seconds from documenting this as a rare historical moment - the dwarves in complete quiet when faced with food - when the chaos began. He almost sighed in relief as bags of coin flew all over the place, many falling far out of reach and spilling out across the floor (undoubtedly with the intention of the thrower). The hobbit took notice of the fact that merely Dís, Bofur, Fíli, Balin and, surprisingly, Gloin, who was positively thrilled at the supposed first time he had won a bet (his bag was one that had ended up on the floor, at the hands of Dori), had received the payment.  
  
As Bofur counted his money beside him, Bilbo turned and asked discreetly what they had bet over this time.  
"Oh, only how long it would take for you and Thorin to begin courting!" he replied cheerfully, unfazed as he was at the hobbit's sudden fidgeting and shy glances cast around.  
  
At the explanation, Nori turned and glared daggers at the "couple," declaring quite bitterly that if only they had gotten over themselves a month sooner, he would still have his gold, whereas Ori planted his forehead onto the table, muttering about how he had thought it would take them a week longer at the very least.  
Dwalin, however, was loud and frustrated, bellowing out, "I was certain you idiots would _never_ get anything done, not at the rate you were going!" The Took within him snickered at that, revelling in the antagonism of his own Baggins reluctance and stubbornness, thinking that Dwalin still deserved his money.  
  
"Why _thank you_ , I am positively brimming with the faith you all have in our competence," Bilbo sneered. Perhaps if the courtship was real, or if Thorin wasn't so maddeningly captivating, he wouldn't be as aggravated, but both of those possibilities were entirely untrue, hence his behaviour. Once again, it is one of those minor matters which could elude you in the moment, but with an adequate storyteller, you may catch onto. I, however, am not, so you will have to suffer me rather obviously telling you that this hobbit's emotions, which he deemed to be considerably inconvenient at the time, will in fact be of importance to the tale's end.  
  
Even so, there is much more to go.  
  
—  
  
"Dí - ís," one child whined, "will you stop with your silly interruptions? Continue with the story!" At some point, the Princess had taken to sitting with any youngsters who were willing to join and telling them such a story. It was something Bilbo had done often before the duties of Consort began to weigh him down so that now any free time was spent with the Company and the King. He would make up the most fantastic legends, perhaps even recount the Quest of Erebor (which goes without saying that he embellished many details, and omitted even more). Dís knew nothing of the journey that these children had not heard already, so she had taken to other real-life events. The focus of late had been the adored love story of Thorin Oakenshield and his saviour, as he was being called. Even Fíli and Kíli had sat down to hear the account.  
  
"Yeah, 'amad, let's get on with it," Kíli grinned from his place at the back of the group, his expression literally falling as his brother nudged him from the stool they were sharing.  
  
"Hush," was her response, "I'm not even at the good part yet!" The room fell silent.  
  
—  
  
Despite the announcement, which was made known merely from the rapid spread of rumours, life continued much as ever, or so it seemed. Though Bilbo was a figure of great respect to the dwarves, especially within Erebor, he garnered a much different kind of treatment now, with constant observers, many giggles, and comments or questions varying vastly in subtlety and overtness in regards to his relationship with the King.  
  
Initially, this treatment wasn't so very intolerable, and in truth he allowed himself to slip into a fantasy come true, except that it wasn't, not yet at least. It did nonetheless become increasingly difficult to remind himself of this. Thorin and Bilbo had always spent a great deal of time together, even before the entire "pretend courtship" event, though it did cause them to extend that time even further. It began to feel like a direct mockery whenever someone would become one of those subtle pryers, more so as time went on.  
  
Thorin seemed to act exactly the same as usual, completely unphased, unaffected by the circumstances. He would sit with Bilbo in his quarters in the evenings and simply talk, ignoring their bizarre situation and treating him as a friend. Meanwhile, the hobbit contemplated how he could get them out of this mess unnoticeably in rather meticulous detail. He had only just realised how difficult that would be - he could not escape the falsity of being the King's "past lover". And though he shuddered to think of it, what if Thorin fell in love? He was under no obligation to marry, as Fíli had long since been declared his heir, but if he were to find someone, how could Bilbo ever be as close with him, between his own emotions and their supposed past? Surely it would cause some sort of scandal, however minor, and wasn't this whole scheme intended to avoid talk, in a sense?  
  
He could not voice these worries, for obvious reasons, though he often had many people enquiring after his wellbeing, both because of the heavy bags under his eyes and his general behaviour. At this point, returning to the Shire had almost seemed appealing. Almost.  
  
In this particular evening, they sat on the floor in a similar position to their first morning together as Thorin gently unwove the braids in Bilbo's hair (whenever he was left to it on his own he would simply attempt to comb them out, only for everything to get stuck and knotted). It brought back the beautiful wave of calm, but now it only upset the hobbit, as they were still entirely platonic, and that was all they would ever be. Initially, he had thought that being closer to Thorin would satisfy his own desires in some way, but truly it only made matters much worse. He was further from the dwarf than ever - he was deceiving him.  
  
"You seem to have been very troubled of late." There it was. Bilbo had been wondering when he would speak out, and deep down he knew that wasn't fair, as Thorin had probably been the first to notice, simply aware of the burglar's apprehension so that he offered him his space. Nevertheless, he was too irritated and sleep-deprived to be fair at the moment. At most he remained silent to refrain any harsh words. He only hummed thoughtfully in response.  
  
"Do you wish to speak of it?" He continued, his voice brimming with concern and care. Bilbo very nearly shook his head, before remembering that Thorin's hands were intertwined in his curls and instead replied perhaps too curtly.  
"No."  
  
After that he sighed and mustered what energy he had left, pushing it all into the management of his manners.  
"I'm sorry, I hope you don't take it the wrong way. I just don't want to talk about it at all, to anyone."  
  
"I understand."  
  
They remained in silence from then on, and Bilbo finally realised that he preferred it as such, at least right now. There was a wordless understanding between them, and when Thorin stood to leave, he felt a great loss in his chest.  
  
"Um, wait." He had mumbled it very quietly, but the King had paused, nothing more than a dark figure in the dim light of the low, flickering candle beside Bilbo's bed. "Would you- can you stay?" He turned back around and smiled, nodding and returning to the bed.  
"Are you not tired?" he asked.  
  
"No, I am - only, I think I could sleep better with you here." It was certainly a bold move, or at least it seemed so to him, and his heart felt as if it was beating so heavily that it thrummed through the floor. Thorin clambered under the covers, and Bilbo immediately shifted closer to him. There was no need for his worry, as the dwarf only pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the other. And if Bilbo could have sworn that there was a rapid heartbeat underneath the chest he had hesitantly rested his hand on, gradually slowing as time went on, he didn't say anything, and he blamed it mostly on his own hopes.  
  
To wake up that morning only to find Thorin no longer there was a disappointment, but Bilbo stopped himself in the realisation that being the first to wake up would have been much worse with the embarrassment. He flipped back the covers and stood, taking his time getting ready before stepping into his main room. There stood the dwarf, two cups in his hands, one of which he sporadically sipped at. Upon seeing Bilbo, he gave him the other. It was tea.  
  
"We've missed breakfast, I'm afraid, and I realise you'll want some but I've always been a terrible cook. Perhaps we can walk down to the kitchens and convince them to fix something up for you?" The scene seemed so naturally domestic that the hobbit felt as if he had walked in on a different life, but either way, he leaned against the table and tasted his drink.  
  
"As long as it's not any trouble," he responded calmly. If this was another life, he did not feel any guilt in burgling it. Thorin shrugged his shoulders lightly, saying, "I'm sure it isn't - but they've likely saved something with you in mind anyway."  
  
They both stood there for a moment emptying their cups before the burglar thought back onto a vague comment during one of their earlier conversations.  
"Don't you have a meeting with the council today?"  
"Only in the afternoon," he replied. "It will be long and tedious, so surely I may spend some time with you before entertaining such bores?"  
The hobbit answered with a laugh, looping their arms together. "I have no objection to it," he beamed.  
  
They did indeed spend much time together, the whole day in fact, as Bilbo had even joined him in the meeting, which none dared to object to, especially with his admirable contributions. Most who were remotely apprehensive at their King courting a hobbit beforehand now begun to reconsider. That didn't go without saying that there were a few certain dwarves within the council who made some scrutinizing comments, but nothing they could have said would have made an impact (other than the impact on the hobbit himself, but we'll get to that). All of this caused a heavy melancholy upon his return to his rooms. Often he found his gaze straying to the place Thorin had stood, and his frustrations grew.  
  
There were many instances when Bilbo had felt this bliss in a fantasy, before falling back into deep loneliness. The dwarf had once kissed his hand in public, smiling up at him against the skin as his eyes widened and his face flushed. Throughout their walks together, there had also been quite a bit of hand-holding, even without anyone watching. It all left the same pit in his heart when it was ripped away each time.  
  
So he left and sat on the edge of a stone overlapping, the very one outside that secret door they had entered all that time ago. It was the only place Bilbo could stay undisturbed, looking out over the landscape and yet never far from the mountain.  
  
You may have been curious as to what exactly those few council members said in regards to the hobbit, and all I will tell you is that they were tremendously rude, but in a subtle, passive-aggressive manner which you would not expect of a dwarf. Many pointed out how incapable he may prove as a Consort, the traditions of having no interracial marriages (especially not within royalty) or even attempted to emphasize different dwarven women in the King's mind, who they believed to be more suitable.  
  
Though Bilbo never expected to marry Thorin, at least not through this pretend scenario they had put themselves into, these crass remarks still haunted his mind and dug into his heart as he watched the sunset. He had been met with general support from ordinary people, something he forgot in the face of small blatant discrimination. Even his hope of reciprocated feelings was beginning to fade. Was this what Thorin had meant when he said he was a king? That he would not be accepted? If only it was one of the Company who he had to fake a courtship with - surely matters wouldn't be so complicated then.  
  
The presence beside him was simply there, not so much being heard or seen, only aware of, and it was much too sudden. Bilbo felt he could not hold in his frustration if anything happened. Without fully knowing why, his eyes watered and he turned to the side, wiping at them furiously. _How humiliating,_ he thought to himself.  
  
"Perhaps not talking about your worries is making matters worse. I am worried, Bilbo." His voice was rich and soft, infuriatingly comforting and painfully compassionate.  
  
"I cannot explain, least of all to you." He realised how harsh that sounded, but he could not bring himself to care, as there was no other way to explain anything without lying or admitting too much.  
  
"I did not think you despised me so!" Right about now, Bilbo had the urge to strangle the dwarf. If he could only be slightly less obstinate, or even just _listen_ to someone for once! Nonetheless, he still did not dare look him in the eyes, seeing his face twist in an impatient fury, a sort of anguish hidden behind the anger.  
  
"Of course I don't despise you!"  
  
"Well if you do not hate me, you do not trust me! I'm not sure which is worse." Bilbo's head lashed to the side at that, finally facing Thorin with a fiery glare and indignant astonishment.  
  
"Here you go again, assuming the worst of people's opinion of you! Not everyone has some vendetta against you! You do not understand. How could you?" Their voices lowered as the hobbit looked away again, seeming to cower in on himself.  
  
"I do not understand because you will not explain anything to me." The dwarf reached out then, covering one of the smaller hands with both of his. "Is it not enough that I care about you? What could be so impossible to say when I only wish to help?"  
  
"This-" his cheeks were tickled by the tears flowing from his eyes- "this is not something you can help with. It is not something you can change." Bilbo's heart ached so much to be faced with such care, when all he wanted was for Thorin to honestly feel for him as intensely as he did. "Do you have any idea how much it _hurts_?" The words came out as hardly more than a trembling whisper, longing for contact yet knowing he could not reach out, he _should_ not.  
  
"To have everyone believe we are together. For Valinor's sake, Thorin, they think we're going to get _married_ one day!" As he spoke, his hands flew about in all sorts of dramatic gestures, tearing away from the gentle hold they were once in. "Where do we stop? _How_ do we stop?" He paused then, startled beyond belief at his own thoughts, at how much he had already said. Maybe he should just get it over with, of his own accord before there are any more complications and misunderstandings.  
  
"Do you... do you know how much it hurts to – to love you in front of everyone as if it was pretend?" He stubbornly avoided Thorin's stare, not wishing to see the horror and pity in his eyes. There was an expected silence for a long time, and all the while Bilbo glared at his feet, his hands clenched at his side. The wind whistled in his ears, making their pointed tips pink from the cold. In a moment, Thorin was much closer, and the burglar turned his gaze back to him in a silent surprise. He faltered.  
"I do," he whispered. "I do know."  
  
He began to step backwards, further away, but Bilbo snapped from his stupor and pulled him back, closing the gap between them with a breathless kiss. Thorin's lips were chapped and scarcely cracked, but they felt so natural against his own so that when they pulled away, he kept his eyes closed and didn't let his love step away. The dwarf rubbed his thumb against his hobbit's lips, caught in a daze and assuring himself of what was reality.  
  
—  
  
"But Princess-" a different young child interrupted this time- "if they were pretending, how did you know that all of this happened?"  
  
She grinned in response. "I thought I told you already that it began with a mischievous Lady Dwarf. Never underestimate her." A few children stared in wonder, trying to figure out if she truly could have been the cause for the King and Consort confessing their feelings, and unsurprisingly to them, it didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.  
  
The eldest boys in the room snickered as said Consort rushed through the halls outside the door, too much in a hurry to threaten any consequences, but yelling out as he passed.  
  
"Dís if you're telling stories in _unnecessary detail_ again, I swear to Mahal-"

**Author's Note:**

> 'Amad - Mother


End file.
